


Gym Class

by TheNerdyTurtle96



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: As the title says, Fluff, Gen, It is a gym class, Middle School AU, Oneshot, TFC is prominently featured, Uhhh what else do I tag, no relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29176728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNerdyTurtle96/pseuds/TheNerdyTurtle96
Summary: TFC is the teacher of the 5th period gym class, which contains 23 hyperactive 7th graders. It’s Friday, which means time to play some games!
Relationships: Friendship only because of the middle school AU
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	Gym Class

Mr. Fullerton-Cook or TFC, as everyone called him, glanced at his watch, tapping his foot against the hardwood as he waited for his 5th hour gym class to arrive. The 7th graders were always terribly squirrely right before lunch and a good, hard workout usually shut them up a bit. However, the group had been doing fitness rounds all week and since it was Friday, TFC decided it was time to play a fun game.

A distant shriek accompanied a sprinting Grian and Mumbo, who were the first to show up. The boy in the red t-shirt was giggling madly as the other boy sputtered for words, his black t-shirt and sweatpants speckled with what TFC really hoped was water.

“Hey TFC! I created a water bomb!” Grian screamed.

“Wait, what?” TFC scrunched up his eyebrows, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“Yeah! And I exploded it too!” The red-shirted boy enthusiastically cheered.

“And it got me wet!” Mumbo whined.

“So, what exactly did you do?” TFC questioned.

“I took one of those cheap plastic water bottles that everyone was handing out at that assembly and I exploded it,” Grian explained.

“Okay then,” TFC rubbed his forehead, which was already beginning to ache. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I dunno,” Grian shrugged. “Say, do we have to do more dumb exercises today?”

“I’ll announce what we’re doing once everyone gets here. Sit down on the floor inside, please, and try not to break anything,” TFC sighed, earning an obedient nod from Grian as he and Mumbo scampered inside the gym. 

Most of the rest of the boys, as well as Cleo, arrived in a large pack, playfully shoving at each other and brewing up a storm of noisy chatter. Plopping their backpacks along the wall, the group didn’t even appear to notice TFC as they continued their pack behavior inside of the gym.

Keralis, Zedaph, and Stress straggled down to the gym, laughing and gossiping amongst themselves as they walked inside. Finally, False dashed down the hallway, pausing in front of TFC to catch a breath.

“I’m so sorry, I lost track of time at my cello lesson last period and I’m sorry for being late,” she panted.

“Oh, it’s alright. Let’s get inside before someone breaks a limb,” TFC chuckled, shepherding the poor girl inside. 

Thankfully, it appeared that all limbs were intact, a miracle for this section of 7th grade gym. Clapping his hands loudly didn’t gain much of the chatty group’s attention, half of whom was attempting to cram on top of a four foot tall stack of gymnastics mats. TFC rolled his eyes before pulling out his old, screechy whistle and giving it a hard blow. The result was a brief moment of stunned silence followed by an explosion of immature reactions. 

“Hey! We’re starting class now, and you need to pay attention so that you know what we’re doing today,” TFC yelled, most of the kids finally listening. Glancing over the crowd, he could tell that everyone was present, making for a lovely crowd of twenty-three hyperactive seventh graders to deal with for the next 40 minutes. 

“Okay kids, today we will be playing a new game called prisonball. As you can see, the volleyball nets are up and there are blue gymnastics mats standing up around the gym,” TFC explained, gesturing to the various objects.

“Basically, we will be playing dodgeball, but there are no teams. Everyone is by themselves. If you form a truce or alliance, I don’t care. However, that will prevent you from winning the game.”

A few kids started whispering to each other, presumably building alliances already, but TFC decided to pick his battles and ignore the extra chatter for now.

“You get out by being hit by a ball that hasn’t touched the wall or floor or if someone catches a ball that you threw. When you get out, you go over to this wall, “ the teacher pointed to the wall by the doors to the gym, “which is called the prison. When the person that got you out gets out, then you can come back in. The last person standing wins the game. Does everybody understand?”

“I have a question, TFC!” One of the boys dramatically waved his hand around and screamed.

“Yes, Bdubs?”

“What if you get out, and then like a second later the person who got you gets out? Do you have to walk  _ allllll  _ the way back?” 

“Yes, you do.” Bdubs, who was definitely one of the more unruly children, loudly groaned and started whining to his friends right next to him. “Just touch the line and then you can go back to playing. Iskall?”

“How many balls can we have at a time?” The boy in a green hoodie had an evil gleam in his glass eye, which TFC didn’t even know was possible.

“I don’t care,” the teacher plainly answered, earning a fist pump from Iskall. Scanning the crowd, TFC could see several more hands up and picked Impulse to call on next.

“If we knock the mats over, do we  _ have _ to set them back up?” Impulse asked in a tone similar to Bdubs’ earlier question.

“Yes, they’re part of the game. What’s your question, Cleo?”

“Do headshots count?” The girl’s jade eyes were twinkling with a slightly malicious delight.

“Yes. Just don’t chuck them too hard at people,” TFC sternly answered, looking right at Doc and Bdubs, who were too busy talking to notice the teacher’s glare. “Okay, Jevin?”

“What if you get out and then you throw a ball that you already had in your hand at someone else  _ before  _ you get to the prison and it hits them? Would they be out?” 

TFC closed his eyes and took a deep breath before responding to Jevin’s question. This kid was known for asking annoying, stupidly technical questions, but at least this one wasn’t as bad as usual.

“No. Like I said, don’t chuck balls at people.” Still, Doc and Bdubs didn’t get TFC’s silent message. “If you’re mad, throw it at the ground. Any more questions?” 

At last, there were no more raised hands, leaving only 35 minutes remaining in the period, which was just fine with TFC.

“If everyone knows what they’re doing, go spread out around the gym.”

The kids flew up to standing positions and packed together in smaller groups, chattering loudly to each other. Once TFC decided that the kids were spread out enough, he dumped out two bags of yellow dodgeballs on the ground and sent them rolling in all directions.

“3, 2, 1, GO!”

With that, TFC turned on some country music and sat back to watch the show. It was always fascinating to observe the social dynamics at play in this kind of game. He had run this game for many years, and kids always formed alliances, whether they were explicitly allowed or not. Loyalties shifted almost completely based on non-verbal communication, and a tentative truce made at the beginning of the game might no longer stand 15 minutes later.

Looking out, the first alliance that TFC noticed was completely predictable: the mighty NHO. Doc, Etho, Beef, and Bdubs never attacked each other during these kinds of games and took pride in destroying everyone else with speed and skill. Joking and laughing all the while, the four boys prowled the lower right quadrant of the gym, taking out anyone who dared to cross their path. 

Another strong group was a typical truce made between Jevin, Ren, Wels, Tango, and Iskall. These five would often agree at the very least to not intentionally get each other out, and they yelled nonsense while chucking balls behind mats, attempting to smoke out anyone hiding behind there. 

The group’s relationship with the NHO was awesome to watch. Sometimes, they would be in all out war, throwing fast and furiously back and forth, picking off members of both sides and trash talking as they went. Other times, they would merely ignore each other and be at relative peace.

All nine usually left alone the formidable pair of Cleo and Joe. The two weren’t the best at the game, but they had each other’s backs and would occasionally chuck a well-timed ball to get someone out. 

The three groups could all band together for one cause, though: taking out the slackers. Keralis, Zedaph, Stress, Grian, Scar, and Mumbo hated gym and putting in much effort in the class, so they strolled around the back of the gym, ducking behind the mats and shrieking loudly whenever a ball slammed into their shield. At least at the beginning, the ten boys and Cleo left the slackers alone, but they soon grew tired of firing at each other and needed fresh targets. Those six were easy pickings, or so it was thought. 

About ten minutes into the period, Keralis jokingly chucked a ball at Beef and actually got the NHO member out. After that, it was war. Beef screaming affirmations from the prison, the NHO and others banded together and pelted the slackers with a barrage of dodgeballs. Loud, shrill screams sounded as the slackers and the boys plus Cleo dashed all over the gym, eternally stuck in a shootout.

In the middle of all of this chaos, Impulse, Xisuma, Hypno, Cub, and xB quietly walked around, avoiding all of the thrown balls and never invoking the ire of any of the groups. The five didn’t really want to play, but they were at least a step up from the slackers. Their quiet, forgettable manner let them stay alive the entire game without having to try too hard.

The final component to this game was False. She was completely solo, as per usual. It wasn’t like she really needed a partner, though. Her goal wasn’t necessarily to win, more so to just survive. Dodging every stray ball that came her way, TFC admired how well the strategic gears of her mind were working. 

False never picked up a ball and never threw at anyone. She was constantly turning in a circle to watch all sides and choosing her station to make sure that no one could surprise her. When almost everyone else was embroiled in an intense battle, she stayed as far as possible from the crossfire and never associated herself with the slackers in any way. It also helped that she, Cleo, and Joe seemed to have an unspoken truce.

For 30 minutes, the game played itself, TFC only having to announce a jailbreak every ten minutes. Like always, observing the social interactions was a real treat, and everyone seemed to be at least not hating the game. 

Five minutes from the end of the period, TFC stopped the class to let everyone have a bit of free time before going to lunch. Most of the kids stayed in their groups, discussing the events of the game loudly and gulping down water. The NHO decided to have an arm-wrestling contest for some reason that everyone else showed extreme interest in, the chatty kids crowding around Etho and Doc for the final match. 

TFC permitted Etho to win the competition before shooing all of the kids off to lunch and to become someone else’s problem. This was always a fun game to play on Fridays, but TFC was definitely ready for some lunch himself. Now, he just needed to plan next week’s workouts and field approximately fifty million complaints about said workouts. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” TFC muttered to himself as he walked down the hallway to his office. Truly, though, he loved his job, if only for the short moments of joy provided by these types of games.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after playing this game in gym class a few months ago. I am exactly like False when I play, and I literally wrote down the names of my actual classmates to create each group of hermits. I love this game, although I did not get to play this in 7th grade.
> 
> When I was in 7th grade (not telling you my actual current grade), I was assigned to the section right after lunch with a ton of hyperactive boys. My class was responsible for two water bombs, like Grian described above, and two Axe bombs, which were cans of Axe deodorant spray turned to auto spray. Bleh. I’m shuddering at the memory of the smell writing this right now. We weren’t allowed to play anything fun. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this little thing and have a lovely day!


End file.
